


Morning View

by two_of_swords



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pynch Week 2018, That annoying brothers try to interrupt, lazy morning sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-21 23:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/two_of_swords/pseuds/two_of_swords
Summary: Ronan finds a slow rhythm to match the same lazy pace as his fingers earlier. It’s a contrast to the frantic rain hitting the window panes, but he refuses to rush. It feels too good to rush.Pynch Week 2018 Day 6: Thunderstorm - Restraint - Indulgence





	Morning View

**Author's Note:**

> The Day 6 prompt called for smut. Sorry it's late!

The low growl of thunder wakes Ronan early on a Sunday morning. His bedroom is cool and dark - the small amount of light filtering through the window has taken on the greenish hue of the impending storm. He hears the warm body next to him take a jagged breath and let out a tiny whimper. Prepared to diffuse a nightmare, he rolls onto his side to spoon Adam, unwittingly rubbing his morning wood against Adam’s ass. He pulls away quickly and palms his unruly cock, but its too late. Adam stirs and lifts his head off the pillow.

“Don’t,” he drawls, his voice husky from sleep and sex, to Ronan’s surprise.

“Don’t what?”

“Move. Come back here.”

Ronan does what he’s told and Adam grinds back against him.

“I was dreaming about this,” Adam says. “You fucking me.”

“Hmm,” Ronan murmurs, burying his face in the back of Adam’s neck. Definitely not a nightmare then. He snakes his hand into the waistband of Adam’s shorts, pushing them down a bit, so he can rub circles into Adam’s hip bone with his fingertips. He notices that Adam’s not wearing anything else underneath. Ronan’s cock twitches in anticipation.

Adam feels it and whimpers again, reaching a hand behind him to grope for Ronan’s ass, trying to pull him closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Adam agrees. He turns his head, searching for Ronan’s lips. Ronan kisses him ravenously, biting on his bottom lip. A flash of lightning briefly lights up the room and a rumble of thunder follows it a few seconds later.

“Get me the lube,” Ronan insists, pushing him back on to his side. He kisses up and down Adam’s back while he fumbles in the drawer, shivering from the touch. Finally, he hands Ronan the bottle of lube and a condom over his shoulder.

Ronan pushes Adam’s shorts down further, past his tan line, past the curve of his ass, and slicks up his fingers, fucking them into Adam from behind. He goes as slow as he wants. They’ve got hours before either of them have to be anywhere and the door’s still locked from when they fooled around last night before bed. Adam shifts mostly onto his stomach, hips rutting against the mattress, seeking friction. Ronan’s right arm is useless, tucked under his own body, and his left hand is busy with Adam’s ass, so he uses his mouth to suck and bite at the back of Adam’s neck while he groans into his pillow.

Adam reaches behind his back again and tugs at Ronan’s boxers, a sign that he’s ready for more. Ronan wipes his slick fingers off on the cotton fabric as he pushes them past his knees. When he settles back down, he can’t resist adding some lube and slipping his dick between Adam’s thighs. Ronan gasps with pleasure, thrusting shallowly and running his hand up Adam’s torso to flick and pinch his nipples. Just when Adam is desperate and whining for more, Ronan leans back and rolls on the condom. He lifts Adam’s thigh and slots himself into position, snaking his other arm under Adam's neck, cradling him in his arms.

Ronan doesn’t fuck Adam often, but when he does, he loves the way Adam’s body tenses with anticipation when he first rubs the tip of his cock against his hole. He loves the way Adam takes a slow, deep breath as Ronan gently pushes past the impossibly tight ring of muscle at the entrance. He loves how much Adam’s body gives, the more that it gets. He loves the way Adam’s stomach muscles clench under his palm when he bottoms out, breath now coming in short gasps.

Ronan finds a slow rhythm to match the same lazy pace as his fingers earlier. It’s a contrast to the frantic rain hitting the window panes, but he refuses to rush. It feels too good to rush - his cock buried deep in Adam’s ass as he runs his fingernails slowly along the sensitive skin of Adam’s inner thigh.

“Ronan!” A voice calls out from downstairs, during a break in the rain. The front door slams shut.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Ronan groans. He stops moving and Adam lets out a loud, frustrated moan that is thankfully covered by a timely crash of thunder.

“Don’t stop,” Adam pants, his voice and body absolutely wrecked in the best possible way. His good ear is pressed to the pillow, so he doesn’t hear the voices downstairs. He clenches his muscles tight around Ronan’s cock and Ronan has to stifle his own moan. He covers Adam’s mouth with his clean hand to muffle his response and silently enunciates “Matthew” with a nod towards the door.

Adam’s eyes grow wide at first, then lustful. He kisses Ronan’s palm, then flicks his tongue between Ronan’s fingers, a clear sign to keep going. Ronan starts moving again and slips his index finger between Adam’s lips to suck on. He figures the best way to keep Adam quiet is to keep his mouth occupied. The rain picks back up, this time accompanied by the wind, and that helps too.

Ronan’s fingers drip with Adam’s saliva as he works them with his tongue and his teeth and his lips. Knowing that he’s occupying so much of Adam at one time has the unexpected benefit of making Ronan want to hurry the fuck up and finish already. He increases his pace as Adam shifts to grip his own cock with his right hand. His left hand braces Ronan’s bicep, fingernails digging into the skin as he comes. His whole body shudders in release and he bites down hard on Ronan fingers. It’s enough to send Ronan over the edge. He buries his face in Adam’s sweaty neck, breathing heavily, and let’s go.

Thunder grumbles as they both recover from the intensity of orgasm. Ronan carefully pulls out and removes the condom, reaching over Adam to toss it in the trash. Adam wipes his hands on the sheets and kicks his shorts the rest of the way off, then loops his arm around Ronan’s neck and pulls him down for a lingering kiss.

The bang of a cabinet door and the muffled sound of voices in the kitchen brings Ronan back to reality. He sighs and pulls his boxers back up. “I should go distract them, so you can get to the bathroom to clean up.”

“I... need a minute. Or ten.” Adam says, rolling onto his back. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead and his eyes have that satisfied post-coital glaze. A single ray of sunlight breaks through the clouds for a moment, illuminating Adam’s face. He looks so beautiful that Ronan can’t resist kissing him again.

“Take your time,” Ronan grins and climbs over him. He throws on a pair of joggers and a clean t-shirt and heads downstairs. He stops in the bathroom to piss and wash his hands and brush his teeth. He knows he still probably reeks of sex, but Matthew won’t notice and if it makes Declan uncomfortable, well, all the better for it.

 

When Ronan enters the kitchen, Declan is sitting at the kitchen table reading a newspaper, already dressed for church, and Matthew is standing at the counter, shoving a bagel slathered in cream cheese in his mouth. He’s barefoot and tie-less, so mostly dressed for church.

“Ronan! We brought bagels!” Matthew says.

“Who let you in?” Ronan asks, directing the question to Declan as he peeks into the paper bag on the counter.

“Opal,” Matthew says.

“And who let you in?” Ronan asks, ducking his head under the table where Opal is busy tying Declan’s shoelaces together. She shrugs. He gives her a thumbs up.

“Did you change the locks?” Declan asks.

“Gotta keep out the riffraff somehow.”

“Seriously, Ronan? It was pouring rain.”

Ronan rummages through the junk drawer next to the refrigerator. “I changed the whole fucking door, asshole. Thanks for noticing. I was going to give you the new key at  _ church _ where I usually  _ meet _ you on Sunday morning.”

He tosses a shiny new silver key in Declan’s general direction. Chainsaw, coming from God knows where, the sneaky shit, dives for it and snatches it out of the air before Declan can catch it.

So far, Ronan is very pleased with how this day is going.

“Matthew left his church shoes here last Sunday. Are you going to get that back from her?”

“That was a test of your worthiness. You failed.” Ronan grabs a blueberry bagel and tears a piece off and pops it in his mouth. “You break into my house and you don’t even make coffee?”

“He drank a shit-ton on the way here,” Matthew says.

Ronan just gets the pot brewing when Adam finally makes an appearance, showered and dressed. Great. Now Ronan is the only one that smells like a fucking brothel.

“Adam! We brought bagels!” Matthew says, the same time Declan says, “Parrish. Good morning.”

“Morning,” Adam replies. “Thanks.”  He grabs a plate and a knife and picks a bagel and slathers it with just as much cream cheese as Matthew’s. He takes his plate to the table and sits across from Declan. He doesn’t wince when he sits, exactly, but there’s a slight intake of breath that only Ronan would notice. He smirks and turns back to the coffee to pour Adam a cup.

“Did you injure yourself, Parrish?” Declan asks. “Looks like you were limping a little.”

Ronan’s hand slips and he spills coffee all over the counter. 

Matthew laughs at him.

“What? No, I’m fine.” Adam flushes and glares at Ronan, a silent warning to keep his mouth shut, but Ronan can’t resist.

“Parrish doesn’t bottom very often,” he says, smugly.

At first, Ronan thinks Declan doesn’t get it, but then there’s a moment where Declan’s face does something complicated before he loses all of his carefully crafted composure. Ronan lives for that moment.

“Hey, what is Chainsaw playing with?” Adam says, desperate for a change of subject. He stands up to investigate and then holds up the key, while Chainsaw screams at him and tries to peck at his hand. “What’s this for?”

There’s a moment when Adam’s face does something complicated before his logical reasoning skills, or fuck, maybe even his psychic abilities kick in. Ronan lives for that moment too. Unless it’s used against him.

Adam looks Ronan directly in the eye and hands the key to Declan.

__"Get your own coffee, Parrish," Ronan says. He's not mad though. How could he be? Declan's shoes are still tied together.

  
  



End file.
